Below The Sea The Loss Of Our Winter

Below The Sea are the tremolodic and soothing sounds of years and years passing one by while in a sedated state. Each song has a very similar tone to it, yet they act like individual slides in a slideshow that makes up one huge picture of classical shoe-gazer gloom. The entire affair is draped by dark repetitious ambience; it passively waits like a booby trap for something new to get entangled within it. And when it does, voices like a vintage Pink Floyd-era Meddle slide guitar, wallows and coos, and foreign sounds in the vein of insects living underwater take over. The album sports that wonderful and simple ride cymbal drive that had made GYBE! such warriors in the land of melancholia, but Below The Sea takes one to the point where they are locked in a room that has a window facing only a wall. It might not be suitable for a sunny afternoon picnic, but wonderful for dark overcast days where the threat of lightning excites the sufferer as they might very well get to witness their desolate environment get burned to a cris (Where Are My Records)